The house of my enemy

by Norrey Ford

  He always dropped into north country speech when agitated.

  "Careful, Father. You can drive me too far."

  "Aye?" The old man was heavily sarcastic. "And where would ye go, eh?"

  Adam felt his temper rising to a point where self-control became a struggle. The blood beat in his temples and he had to grip his hands into hard fists. He was anxious that his father should not push the matter beyond a point of no return. He was all his father had in the world; John William never spoke of the loss of his wife, the death of his older sons, but Adam knew the grief cut deep. Stubbornness had cost him a brother, and now it bade fair to lose him his only son.

  Adam said more gently, "Family businesses aren't holy. You can't make human sacrifices to them."

  "I'm not making a human sacrifice and I'm asking you to make none. I'm offering you the managership, the absolute control, of the biggest spice-importing business in the north. When anything happens to me, you'll be a rich man and an influential one, one of the most important merchants in Earlton."

  An Earlton man never said the most important in England, or even in the world. Biggest i' Earlton was his standard, and it was enough. He didn't go higher, because in his opinion higher didn't exist.

  "I appreciate that. I still think it can be done another way."

  "I've said my last word. I think I've been reasonable."

  The blood surged in Adam's ears. Reason—from a man so utterly unreasonable! He felt within him a surge of force and knew his own power. The old man was finished. He thought he could manage the business again, but he could not; he was past it. Careful now, Adam old son! Mustn't use that power against a helpless old man.

  `Very well, Father. If that's your last word, perhaps you'll listen to mine. I'd hoped to break this more gently, but I've no choice but to tell you now. I intend to marry another girl—soon, next month if possible."

  Incredibly, his father changed as he watched. What, a moment before, had been a shrunken old body weak in an invalid's chair, seemed to grow in stature till it was once more a figure of power and authority.

  "Why haven't you seen fit to tell me before?"

  "The doctor said you weren't to excite yourself. You're

  doing it now, and your blood pressure will go up again.

  Take it easy, Father. Every man's son marries sometime." The hand drummed the chair arm. Not weakly now. "Not mine—without my consent. I don't consent." "Think again, Dad. I'm well over age. I don't need your

  consent to marry. I'm sorry if it's been a shock to you, but

  whatever you say won't alter matters."

  "That's as may be! What'll you live on, if I cut off supplies?"

  "I can do without Bramhall's better than Bramhall's can do without me."

  John William's forehead flushed and bulged. "Why, you young hound. You'll come crawling to your cakes and milk before long. Tell this girl of yours you're engaged elsewhere. You're not free to marry. Who is she, anyway?"

  `She's Verity—Uncle Robert's adopted daughter."

  For the space of a long minute, father and son glared angrily at each other. The black and green marble clock ticked loudly and a lump of coal fell on the hearth. One rugged Bramhall face mirrored the other.

  John William pointed to the door. "Get out!"

  "I'm going! But I shall marry Verity, so you might as well make up your mind to it. Whatever happens, I shan't give her up."

  "Shut up and get out! You're no son of mine."

  As Adam was shutting the door, John William shouted "Wait!"

  He turned back.

  "Does my brother know?"

  "Not yet."

  "I'll tell him. I'll teach him to foist his daughter on me behind my back. The scheming old devil " The old man clawed dangerously for the telephone just beyond his reach.

  "You'll do yourself an injury, Father. Here's the telephone. You can save your breath. Uncle Robert's on the high seas. He can't have schemed this when he doesn't know about it. Do think straight!"

  "I've lost the power to think! This is the blackest treachery yet. And don't Uncle that man. He's not fit to be your uncle. Go away! Get out of my sight and stay out. And that means the office too. Ask at the Wages Office to-morrow for the money due to you, and clear off."

  In the hall Adam mopped the sweat off his forehead. He had almost lost his temper, but grabbed it by the tail at the last minute. Well, if he'd been thrown out, that was in the family tradition.

  He went to find the housekeeper. "Have a look at Father, Bella. I'm worried about him. We've had a flaming row."

  "Oh, Adam, you shouldn't! You know his health isn't up to it."

  "If his health had been up to it, Bella, the roof would have blown off. Will you pack my things and send them after me? I'll let you have an address to-morow."

  "You're not leaving him?"

  "I have to. He's chucked me out."

  "Tch! Men—the great babies! There's no need to go, ducky. Sit tight and keep out of his way, and it'll blow over by morning."

  "This won't! This is the big show, Bella. Oh, good gracious, woman, don't cry! Mop your eyes and go along to Father.' Make an excuse of some sort. And then make yourself a nice cup of tea. Go on, now."

  He gave her a spanking kiss. "Cheer up, Bella. It's not the end of the world. Bramhalls always quarrel."

  She blew her nose. "Aye, that they do. And you're one of the worst, Adam. That pig-headedness of yours 'll lead you to disaster, you see if it don't. Ee, I'm that upset."

  Curious to know whether his father would carry out his threat, Adam went to the office as usual next morning. The Chief Cashier followed him to his room.

  "I'm that sorry, Mr. Adam. Oh dear me, I've worked here since I left school, and I don't know how to say it. I remember the first day you ever came into this room."

  "You needn't say it, Mr. Truman. This is the last day—is that it?"

  "Your father seems determined. I tried to argue with him, but he called me a—well, never mind, he always was hasty. It'll blow over, I'm sure."

  "Not this time. Is that my salary cheque you're waggling in your fingers?"

  "Made up to to-day."

  Adam glanced at the neat figures with a smile. "Shock Number One for my father. An outsider will demand twice my salary."

  "It won't come to that, sir. He'll call the whole thing off in a few days. Why, Bramhall and Son couldn't run without you—not nowadays, sir. With all due respect to Mr. John William, naturally."

  Adam put an arm round the cashier's shoulder. "Old friend, don't bank too much on Father calling it off. If he's determined, so am I. I'm going to be married."

  "What on, sir? Oh, I beg your pardon—it's no affair of mine. In my job one naturally thinks of money."

  `So do I, Truman. I'm thinking of it very hard. As you say, what on?"

  "Is your father against the young lady, then?"

  Adam laughed. "Robert's daughter."

  The cashier sucked in his breath noisily. "Mr. John William won't like that."

  "He doesn't. But I do. Hand over the cheque, I'll be needing the money. I've some savings and I can flog Sea-foam, so I shan't starve. Don't look so anxious."

  He went out whistling.

  "He doesn't seem to mind," said Mr. Truman's second in-command, wonderingly. "I wouldn't whistle, in his shoes."

  "I've known Mr. Adam ever since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Always whistled loudest when he was most hurt, did that boy."

  He drove Verity into Bridsea that evening, and they sat in his car on the darkened sea-front, watching blue clouds scud across a gibbous moon. The sea crashed and sucked, ink-blue on a grey sliver of beach, with the edge of foam a luminous white in the moonlight.

  Verity was indignant. "Those two horrible old men, like —like slave-traders bartering their own children. They've become so dried up in their spices, they've forgotten what it is to be young and alive."

  "In both cases they've given to their work all that a man usually gives to his
family. Old Brown, with only a granddaughter. And my father, with his two sons killed."

  "He has you. You're his son."

  "I'm only a stopgap. He never forgave me for being alive when the others were dead. He was too old and heartbroken to share my childhood with me, as he did the others."

  "Poor Adam!" She laid a warm hand on his wrist. "You mind terribly, don't you? I mean about your father thinking you're a stopgap."

  "You're the only person who ever guessed that. You see, I admired the old boy so terrifically and used to look forward to the time when I'd be big enough for him to take an interest in me and start to teach me things, as he did the older boys. But by that time the boys were dead and he somehow resented me. I wanted desperately to take their place, to be part of his life as they'd been, but the door was always shut. Latterly, it's opened a bit and we're drawn closer together."

  Verity stared miserably at the dark sea. "And I've spoilt it for you. Adam—isn't it all too difficult? Ought we to separate now, before we hurt other people unbearably?"

  "Do you want to? If it's too hard for you . .?"

  'Nothing's too hard for me if I have you. But I'm spoiling your future."

  "I have no future, without you."

  "That's all right, then. We'll be outcasts together, because I'm sure Daddy will be as bad as your father. Isn't it lucky we're getting married soon?"

  He took her in his arms, put his lips to her soft hair. "My love, we can't be married till I'm earning something on which to keep a wife."

  "You mean—postpone our wedding indefinitely?"

  "Only till I can keep you, sweetheart. I'll get a job of sorts, never fear, but I must wait a while, to give my father a chance to change his mind."

  She said crossly, "He'll never change his mind and you'll never change yours. So we'll never be married. He's a pigheaded bully and you're almost as bad. At times I hate you."

  "If you'd prefer to call the whole thing off, say so." "No, I don't mean I hate you. I'm sorry, but I can't bear inaction. Just sitting around letting him do this to you!"

  "I don't intend to sit around. I'll soon get a job, when I start. I'm not conceited, I hope, but I know I'm worth a fair salary. I'm pretty well known in Earlton and—don't you see?—that's one reason why I want to wait a bit. If my father, doesn't give way and we make a final split, well and good. Adam Bramhall is on the market, looking for a job. But if in a day or a week he does come round—well, I'd prefer to keep this family squabble in the family. No sense in broadcasting it, or washing dirty linen in public, before I have to."

  She was abashed. "Yes. I see. I was thinking only of myself and my disappointment, and not of you. You have the common sense for both of us. I realize all you are giving up for me. If—if you never go back, shall you mind terribly? Shall you resent me, perhaps, in the years to come?"

  "Bramhall's is part of me and of my family. I've grown up in the belief that one day it will be mine, and I hoped it would be my son's. But if I have to give it up, it's a small price to pay for the woman I love."

  The more Verity brooded on John William's attitude, the angrier she became. The days slipped by with no sign of

  relenting on the old man's part. It was to be a long-drawn-out battle.

  She drove Sally into Minster, Springwater's market town, for a check-up at the ante-natal clinic, and met Adam for lunch at the old-fashioned Minster Arms.

  "I've enough money to buy you lunch," he assured her, smiling. "And I've put Seatoam up for sale. Dad's driving down to the office every day, so I'm told. Depends who'll stand this pounding longest, gentlemen, as some famous character said during a battle."

  "Wellington or Churchill, probably. Darling, I've an idea. Couldn't we be married anyway, money or no money? It would be like nailing our colours to the mast. I want to show people I believe in you."

  "By heaven, honeybunch, you tempt me, with your face so eager and alight. What have I done to deserve such love and loyalty? Honestly, I don't deserve you."

  He had ordered coffee to be brought to them in the drawing-room, a solid, shabby apartment with a high painted ceiling, sash windows draped in crimsom brocade, and a roaring fire in a basket grate. There was a bowl of snowdrops on the table. She touched them gently. "February flowers, Adam. This should have been our wedding month. Why shouldn't it be?"

  "Because I have a sense of responsibility. I'm a man, I have to think for you. I can't let you throw your cap over the windmill in that impulsive war—though don't think I'm not tempted."

  "Lots of young wives work."

  "Not mine, thank you. Do you think I could bear to marry on your earnings?"

  She sulked crossly. "You're so proud, you make it impossible! I know you're right, but it's so hard sitting with my hands folded, just waiting, when I want to go out and kill people for standing in our way."

  `I'll give Dad a month. Then, I promise you, things will move. In the meantime I could do labouring for the Town Council, digging drains. Well paid by the hour, that is. Or," he smiled wryly, "the Employment Exchange could place me in Bramhall's warehouse. It seems we need packers,

  unskilled, male or female. Good money, too. Shall I take it?"

  "Don't joke about it. I'm shaking with rage! Your father mustn't do this to you! All my life I've believed I knew the Bramhall character. I can understand your father to some extent, but I'm dashed if I can understand you. You —you let him trample on you."

  "You don't know my kind of obstinacy. It isn't always spectacular, but it goes deep. I'd dig drains the rest of my life rather than give in. But I love him, Verity. I can't slam the door in his stupid old face yet. Give him a chance." He spoke gently, as he might have spoken to a child. "He's old. We're young. We can afford the waiting game, just a little while."

  "You win, as usual. You know Daddy comes home in a couple of days. What am I to say to him?"

  "If you feel we must tell him, we will. But if you can keep silent a very little longer, it would help. For the moment the war is between my father and me. I'd like to keep it that way. I don't want you to become a casualty when I've no way of rescuing you. Don't worry, I'll soon open your cage, little wild bird."

  "You're so strong-minded and practical. I'll try to be obedient, but I'm not very good at it."

  "You'll have to learn, if you're going to be Mrs. Me. I intend to be boss in my own house. I shall probably beat you every Saturday."

  She grinned at him affectionately. "We shall have terrible scenes and I shall yell blue murder. But I have a horrid feeling you'll win every time."

  "I intend to."

  She said goodbye to him and went back to the clinic to collect Sally. It appeared that Laurie had already picked her up, which left Verity with an unexpectedly free hour.

  She strolled round the busy market, absent-mindedly letting herself be jostled by the crowd, and getting in the way of vans piled with vegetables, or huge slinky black cars filled with bright dresses on hangers across the back seat. A stout woman in a cross-over apron and a man's

  cap jerked her arm. "You in love, ducks? You were nearly under that car."

  "Oh—sorry!" She smiled at the woman and moved away.

  That woman was right, I am in love. And—she smiled softly to herself—I'm not married to Mr. Lord and Master Bramhall yet, so I don't have to be so obedient, do I?

  She hurried back to her car and drove off as quickly as she could through the narrow, choked streets and market crowds. Not westward towards Nutmeg House, but eastward.

  * *

  "A Miss Mary Bell to see you, sir."

  John William Bramhall growled, "Who the heck's she?" but came to his feet with a painful grunt as Verity entered the dim office. "All right, Truman, all right." He waved the cashier away. "Bring me the other lot of books later."

  Verity stood in front of his big mahogany desk, head high, a nervous spot of colour burning in each cheek. To her unaccustomed nose, the office had a spicy smell which made her want to sneeze. Her quick eyes took in d
etails; a three-masted sailing ship in a bottle, a portrait of the founder of the business on the wall behind John William's chair. Mentally she saluted that familiar, hawk-like countenance which she saw every day on the staircase of Nutmeg House. Lately, the portrait in her own home had become dear to her, it was so much like Adam.

  John William invited her to sit down, but she shook her head. "I'd rather stand. But please sit down yourself, Mr. Bramhall. I know you haven't been well."

  John William had always had an eye for a pretty girl. This one wore a slim grey suit, a bunch of violets tucked into the grey fur collar. He liked her provocative hat and knew enough to realize such simplicity was expensive. A self-possessed little creature, he decided, with a look in her eye which plainly said no nonsense. She couldn't be after a job here, so what did she want?

  He sank into his armchair, which was richly red with a century of polish. "I don't know who you are, but if you want to talk to me you'll have to sit down. I can't crane my neck up there."

  "All right." She took an upright chair, facing him. "Mr. Bramhall, have you considered what you're doing to your son?"

  "What business is that of yours, young madam?"

  "Never mind, for the moment. Do you know he's considering earning a living by digging drains?"

  "More fool he. There's a job here for him as my general manager, any time he likes to walk in that door."

  "At a price he's not prepared to pay."

  "Did he send you here to plead for him?"

  "Certainly not. He'll be furious when I tell him about this, but it's time someone talked to you straight out. If you're thinking Adam will surrender, you're wrong. He won't."

  "He'd better. I shan't."

  She studied him with a considering eye, and sighed. "You've been separated from your only brother for over thirty years, because you're both stubborn and proud. Surely sometimes in your inner heart you've regretted that? Do you want the same thing to happen with Adam, your only son? Do you want to grow older and older, alone in your big house with no one to care about you? Do you want never to see your grandchildren? To see this business go clown because there's no one to carry it on?"